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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23392288">Point of Impact</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blistering_Typhoons/pseuds/Blistering_Typhoons'>Blistering_Typhoons</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001), Disney - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Random &amp; Short, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Which Very Quickly Becomes Resolved, little angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:02:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,233</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23392288</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blistering_Typhoons/pseuds/Blistering_Typhoons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Preston B. Whitmore is going to do whatever it takes to convince his friend, Thaddeus Thatch, that he is the greatest man he knows.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thaddeus Thatch/Preston B. Whitmore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Point of Impact</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This came out of rewatching Atlantis with my sibling and realizing how much potential Preston and Thad had, reading some fanfic about them and then inevitably growing obsessed.</p><p>I have my doubts about this, pacing wise and other, but overall I just really wanted to spread this ship around :D</p><p>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The last lingering flames in the fireplace crackle and sputter, casting flickering light upon the faces of the two men slumped in the ridiculous armchairs haphazardly placed on the thick, brown rug.</p><p>Whitmore looks over at the dejected figure across him, hand going numb as the ice in his generously poured drink does it’s work. Thad is still damp from the rain that had long ceased outside, suit crumpled from when Preston had to bodily stuff him into the car.</p><p>He still hasn’t moved.</p><p>Preston has seen Thaddeus in every mood imaginable in their lengthy friendship, moods that are often too nuanced for the English language. And every other language he inevitably butchers, come to think of it.</p><p>But he admits, sadness is one he still can’t seem to agree with, let alone tolerate.</p><p>Those goddamn curators...</p><p>He mutters irritably, concern growing by the second. </p><p>‘’C’mon Thatch, don’t fall asleep on me.’’, he mumbles, awkwardly and violently pressing his foot forward towards the other man. </p><p>The action causes his drink to slosh onto aforementioned rug and his frame to slip down even lower into the cushioned comfort.</p><p>‘’M’not.’’, Thaddeus finally grits out, his own drink gulped down long ago.</p><p>Preston rolls his eyes, but doesn’t push it. For now.</p><p>Instead his traitorous mind decides to focus on how soft Thad looks in the warm glow, how tragic a figure he cuts with his furrowed brow and sorrowful eyes. The usually tousled brown hair now lay matted with wiry abandon against his forehead. The way his head cranes down in horrid, depressing defeat.</p><p>Preston’s finding it difficult not to smooth those locks back, embrace his friend and say it’s all going to be alright, even if it probably won’t be. </p><p>He opts to instead sip at his drink, disguising his grimace a one of disgust with the liquor.</p><p>‘’I just...’’, Thaddeus begins, fingers tapping against the arm of his chair nervously.</p><p>Preston releases a soft sigh of disgust (genuinely not enjoying whatever the hell he had poured), before listening patiently. You didn’t get anywhere with Thaddeus if you pried.</p><p>They sit in silence, years of companionship making it absurdly easy to just sit and wait for one another. Preston’s favourite memories are of the two of them cooped up in a library, either a public one or Preston’s hideously large one, sipping something and murmuring affectionate insults and exchanging looks that Preston interprets differently when he’s lonely at night.</p><p>Preston can wait forever. He’s already been doing it.</p><p>Thad chuckles mirthlessly, and God, Preston <em>hates</em> that noise.</p><p>‘’Why- why did I even? Pres, why the hell did I even try?’’, he finally continues, voice trailing off into a broken whisper, words fluttering around like a trapped bird.</p><p>Preston feels like crying, slapping himself, the curators and then Thad himself. It’s an achingly familiar feeling, helplessness and sorrow tearing at his chest.</p><p>Instead he sighs deeply with sad fondness, shakily setting his glass down beside him. It clinks softly, but Thad doesn’t look up, gaze fixed upon the burning logs.</p><p>With a groan that he feels denotes his age rather too well, Preston surrenders his knees to the soft carpet. Somehow, he doesn’t know how, he’s gotta get it through Thad’s thick, beautiful and intelligent skull that he isn’t the problem.</p><p>Sure, his dearest friend often has trouble understanding basic social skills and getting his point across, but the people who looked past that had the pleasure of glimpsing what lay beneath the awkward exterior. </p><p>He’s gonna prove that to him, even if it means awkwardly scuttling over to Thatch on his knees and hands, practically crashing into the man’s long legs.</p><p>Thad yelps, eyes torn away from their brooding position to fix Thad with a wide-eyed stare that, to be quite honest, was doing funny things to certain parts of Preston’s anatomy. The position probably complicates matters somewhat, but Preston rather obstinately ignores all this and clumsily (and drunkenly) reaches up to cup Thad’s face in order to uncomfortably force the man down to his level.</p><p>Thaddeus huffs out an annoyed laugh.</p><p>‘’The hell are you doing, Whitmore?’’</p><p>‘’G’na tell you how great you are- now, don’t make that face at me Thatch. I am gonna convince you, you stubborn mule.’’, Preston replies, deliriously sliding his digits over the rough texture of Thad’s face. He takes the time to tuck away the errant honeyed lock of wet, gorgeous hair. </p><p>Oh no, he’s just realized what a stupid idea this is. He’s much too drunk for this and Thaddeus is so <em>pretty</em> and he’s kneeling at his feet and <em>oh this really was such a stupid idea-<br/>
</em></p><p>Thaddeus breathes out a shaky little laugh, but he doesn’t move away, which is good.</p><p>‘’And how are you gonna do that, Pres? There’s nothing to talk about.’’, he finishes with another frown that Preston can feel form against his palms.</p><p>‘’Stubborn. Mule.’’, Preston reiterates, emphasizing the words with drunken righteousness.</p><p> Thaddeus glares at him, the effect of which is slightly ruined by the fact that Preston has taken to squishing his cheeks out of amazed curiosity.</p><p>He instead snorts and Preston relaxes slightly at the noise, before speaking.</p><p>‘’First thing, you’re real smart Thad and I don’t care what sort of remissal you have for me-‘’</p><p>‘’<em>Rebuttal</em>, Pres-‘’</p><p>‘’Case in point.’’, Preston says with a smirk, hands trailing down to trace the lines of Thaddeus’ jaw with reverence.</p><p>Thad exhales softly, both at Preston’s words and his increasingly bold touch. Colour blooms past the darkened complexion and Preston’s skin sings a soft, crooning lament.</p><p>What is he doing again? Is Thad closer or is it the hazy wishes of his mind, speaking through the demon that had decided to possess him.</p><p>Whatever it is, Thad’s eyes are hooded and dark, breath ghosting laboriously over Preston’s face.</p><p>‘’Secondly, you think differently Thatch. You got ideas most men gotta sit on for decades before they come close to understanding it. And you...’’, Preston trails off, both at a loss for words and in fascination at where his hands had decided to wander.</p><p>Thad swallows heavily, the sound lingering in the air. His skin is hot to the touch and Preston desperately hopes it has nothing to do with the fire, which is dying anyways.</p><p>‘’A-And thirdly-‘’, he doesn’t have a chance to say much else before his mouth is covered by Thad’s.</p><p>Hot, burning flames erupt from Preston’s everything,  and he’s surprised his insides aren’t scorched to black. Thad’s facial hair threatens to invade his mouth, but he feels he doesn’t really care that much. </p><p>He gasps softly as Thaddeus empty glass falls to the floor, allowing him to rake his fingers through Preston’s hair. Thad makes a quiet noise of pleasure and Preston’s sure he’s vibrating at this point.</p><p>The kiss is soft and safe, warm and comforting and Preston’s heart breaks into so many pieces, he’s going to have trouble counting them.</p><p>‘’Mmf, Thad.’’, he sighs against the delightful onslaught, head sobering much to quickly for his liking.</p><p>‘’What, Whitmore?’’, Thaddeus replies, fond annoyance clouding his thick, deep tone.</p><p>Yes, what exactly?</p><p>Preston can’t remember, so he opts to clamber onto Thaddeus’ lap amidst playful growls and huffy protests and stay there for the rest of the night.</p><p> </p><p>Thaddeus is late for a meeting in the morning, but he assures Preston it’s worth it.</p><p>Preston believes him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading, comments and kudos are very much appreciated :D</p><p>Have a pleasant day!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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